by Robyne Young
I’m so excited! It’s my birthday and I’m going to be a princess for the day with a party and a castle-shaped cake with six turrets and six candles.
All my friends are coming, so Rosie can’t come. She’s not my friend. She wears really daggy clothes and always whines. Mummy said I should invite her, but I told her it was my party and I only want my friends. I cried and cried till she said I didn’t have to ask Rosie.
Mummy tells me I have to wear my everyday clothes until the party. “Please Mummy. Can I pleeease get dressed now? I won’t get dirty. I promise. I’ll just sit here in my bedroom and read. AND IT IS MY BIRTHDAY!” Mummy gives in.
There is a pretty princess on my dress but she’s only tiny. I put on my dress and tiara, and look in the mirror then twirl and twirl and twirl until I’m dizzy. I stop and see the princess is getting bigger and she’s now all over my dress. Her arms and legs are getting longer covering my hands and fingers and legs and feet. “Mummy! MUMMY!!!” I scream, but she can’t hear me because I’m trapped inside the princess dress.
“No. It’s not Mummy. You wanted to be a princess for a day, but you make such a beautiful princess I think you should be one forever. Now, you’ll never have to go to school or see Rosie ever again.”
Based in Albury, Robyne Young writes short fiction, columns and the occasional poem. She is writing her first novel and for research is plundering her sons’ lives.